


love is a lottery, and i'm betting on you

by hetzi_clutch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bedsharing, F/F, Fluff, Jealousy, Light Angst, Mistaken For A Couple, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it was fun to write ngl, literally all the tropes, thasmin, there are more tropes but i dont want to spoil them, this is honestly the most cliched thing ever but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetzi_clutch/pseuds/hetzi_clutch
Summary: The Doctor knows how it is with the female companions. Lived it dozens of times before. And this time, she's determined to make sure it doesn't happen.Or, five times the Doctor was so busy making sure Yasmin Khan didn't fall in love with her, she failed to realize that the opposite was happening.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just literal fluff. Tooth-rotting, go see a dentist fluff, with a little bit of light angst thrown in. What can I say, I'm a sucker for those 'five times when...' fics. 
> 
> Oh, and the title is a lyric from 'Lottery' by Jade Bird. Highly recommended, by the way.

“Are you two seeing each other?”

_“Are_ we?”

“What—? _No,_ mum, we’re friends!”

And from the way vehement way Yaz answered, the Doctor immediately knew that she was in trouble.

She hadn’t expected it in this body, if she was being honest. Not with humans, and not with human females, and even if the 21st century was a tad more progressive, it was still early days yet, and _besides;_ couldn’t the Doctor get a break? She’d spent 2000 years fending off the advances of her companions—mainly female, though she didn’t rule out surprises—and the one thing she’d hoped for, once she realized that she was a woman, was that it wouldn’t happen quite so much. Or at least, not so early. She was still awkward, wasn’t she? Still getting used to the new body, and anyway, half the time Yaz looked at her with the same sort of long-suffering bemusement Ryan and Graham usually wore. 

But then, half the time she looked at the Doctor with a sparkle in her eye and a grin she thought was hidden, and every time the Doctor saw it, her hearts dropped, just a little more.

Because this regeneration _hated_ awkwardness. Didn’t help that she seemed to be particularly inclined to it, either. And hundreds of years of traveling, coupled with dozens of painfully awkward experiences, had taught the Doctor to be on the lookout. Especially since, with her wealth of experience, she often saw the signs coming before they did. The flushed cheeks, the teasing, the compliments disguised as jabs; all pointing to the fact that the Doctor needed to start dropping mentions of her former wives. Which usually did the trick.

And the second Najia asked the question, the Doctor saw the signs, as clear as the light of a train in a dark tunnel.

And she was standing at the mouth.

The Doctor played it off—she was good at playing things off, even in a body that didn’t quite fit yet—but even so, the realization prickled uncomfortably at the back of her neck. And she couldn’t brush it off, much as she wanted to. Mothers always knew; that was another bit of wisdom she’d picked up over the years of traveling. Mothers knew, and often before their daughters did. Sometimes, even before the Doctor caught on.

But at the same time, when Yaz asked—or more properly, begged—to keep traveling with her, the Doctor opened her mouth to say _no, it was too dangerous_ —and was nearly as surprised as Yaz to hear a yes slipping out instead. And the moment she saw Yaz’s face light up, she couldn’t take it back, could she? Not when Yaz was smiling at her like _that,_ as if she’d just won the lottery.

So the Doctor just sighed internally, and made a promise to herself.

No matter what, the Doctor was not going to let Yasmin Khan fall in love with her.

————

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon, which meant they were running from a group of angry guards. Really, par for the course. 

The Doctor was sprinting, Yaz right behind her, when they passed an alleyway. The Doctor jerked to a halt, sending Yaz crashing into her.

“Doctor, wha—”

“Shh!” the Doctor grabbed her hand and dragged her into the alleyway, diving behind what she assumed to be a trash bin, judging by the bright yellow color and hexagonal shape. She pulled Yaz behind it, and with both hands, pressed her safely against the side of the bin. “Don’t sit down. It’s toxic.”

“It’s _toxic_ —” Yaz’s eyes widened, and she glanced down at the ground, then quickly moved her foot away from something green and slippery-looking. “How toxic?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t kill you.” The Doctor reached up to brush a tiny Gin’aii spider off Yaz’s shirt, only to realize that she was still tightly holding on to one of Yaz’s arms. And Yaz seemed to noticed at the same moment, for she glanced down, and the Doctor saw a slight flush creep up her cheeks. Quickly, she dropped her arm and stepped back. “It’s not _that_ toxic. Just try not to touch anything.”

“Got it.” Yaz nodded, and glanced quickly at the Doctor, before dropping her gaze to the ground. The Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead she ducked around the side of the bin, checking to see if the coast was clear.

“Are Ryan and Graham okay?” Yaz asked. “I didn’t see them once they started running.”

“Oh yeah, they’ll be fine.” The Doctor popped up above the trash bin just for a moment, swung her gaze in both directions, and then slid back down next to Yaz, leaning against the trash bin. “The Althorix are very rude you know, don’t like any women but their own to be out in public, because apparently their men keep running off with ‘em. The women have no inclinations towards other men, surprisingly enough.”

“Huh.” Yaz nodded, but it was short, almost distracted, and she wasn’t looking at the Doctor. Her eyes were on the slippery green trash decorating the ground. “Why is that, then?”

“Uh—” for a moment, the Doctor was too busy watching Yaz to answer. She still looked as if she were blushing—why? And then she registered their proximity, practically sandwiched side-by-side up against the bin, and mentally cursed herself. _Idiot._ She tried to wriggle away as much as she could, without success.

“Doctor?” Yaz was looking at her now, brow wrinkled in confusion, and the Doctor realized she had stopped talking completely, too busy trying to figure out how to solve the problem of how close they were.

“It’s, um—” the Doctor fumbled. “Well, nobody knows the real reason. Some say it’s because the women are so ugly that the men can’t stand ‘em—though I’d call rubbish on that one, I mean have you seen ‘em? And others say that the women don’t even like the men, they just need ‘em around to reproduce and the men start running away because they feel slighted.”

She said it all in a rush, and only at the end of it realized she was blushing as well, from the pure embarrassment of the situation. _Damn it._ Was she always going to be so awkward? She couldn’t recall her old bodies being quite like this. 

She finished with a shrug, suddenly hyper-aware of just how little her wriggling away had done to solve the issue at hand. And Yaz was watching her, with a look in her eyes that made the Doctor’s stomach flip with worry, and she wasn’t sure what to do.

“I’m going to, uh, check if the coast is clear,” she choked out, and before Yaz could respond, pulled away to peek once more over the top of the trash bin. “I think we might be—oh. Oops.”

Probably, the Doctor realized, she shouldn’t have talked quite so loudly. Because now the guards were right there, glaring at them from the entrance to the alleyway.

“Right, nevermind.” She slid back down beside Yaz, and grabbed her wrist—not her hand, she wasn’t about to get tangled up in _those_ implications—to pull her out from behind the trash bin. “Okay, Yaz, just do what I do, okay?”

“What are we—” Yaz didn’t have time to get her sentence out before the Doctor yanked them both into full view of the guards, who immediately leveled their weapons at them. “Hang on, aren’t we trying to avoid them?”

“Not anymore.” The Doctor thrust her hands in the air, the universal surrender signal, and Yaz looked to her, then did the same. The foremost guard eyed them suspiciously, her gun still trained at their chests.

“You are both under arrest in the name of Althorix law,” she snarled. “Where are your male chaperones?”

The Doctor went to answer, but Yaz beat her to it. “Indisposed, thanks very much. We don’t need male chaperones.”

Ooh, the Doctor loved Yaz, but she was going to kill her. 

_“Wrong thing to say,”_ she whispered out of the side of her mouth, and then pointed her chin at the guard. “Not indisposed, just…lost! We couldn’t find them.”

The guard looked between them, eyes narrowing. “Fine. You’ll both come with me. We’ve got a nice cell, and if your male chaperones can bail you out, alright. If not, you’ll face the courts.”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor grinned, and lowered her hands. With a quick glance, Yaz did the same. “Always loved a good court! Isn’t that right, Yaz?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yaz said, her eyes fixed on the guard. “I love courts.”

“You won’t if they find you guilty.” The guard was still glowering at them, her expression shaded with suspicion. “Now both of you, come forward.”

“Alright mate, no need to yell,” the Doctor grumbled, and went to take a step forward. As she did, she felt a hand tangle in her own, and almost pulled away, just out of caution— _really not the best time, Yaz_ —but then she felt a fearful squeeze, and realized that Yaz needed it more than she was letting on.

So the Doctor didn’t object. Rather, she returned the squeeze with a reassuring one of her own, and tried to ignore how nice it felt, really, to be facing down the guards like this. Together. 

But the moment their hands entwined, the guard blinked in surprise, and the muzzle of her gun dropped a few inches. 

“Wait a minute.” she cast a glance between them, eyes lingering on their linked arms. “Are you two together?”

“Um—” the Doctor hesitated, and felt Yaz immediately start to pull away, but then she saw the opportunity. She tightened her grip, wrapping her fingers firmly around Yaz’s, and gave a vigorous nod. “Yes, yes we are! Why do you ask?”

“Oh.” The guard’s gun dropped completely, as did the others. She straightened up, all signs of aggressiveness gone. “ _Oh._ Well, you’re no problem then. Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Uh—” Yaz and the Doctor glanced to each other, then back to the guard. The Doctor shrugged. “Didn’t realized it was an issue.”

“No, no.” The guard was shaking her head, a relieved smile spreading across her face. “No, it’s fine. We just thought—” 

She gestured awkwardly to their hands, then brought her own hand back to wrap around her gun, and shifted, embarrassed. “It’s fine. We’ll, uh, leave you two—um, my apologies. Guards!”

The other guards snapped to attention at her command, and she waved them down the street. They leapt to her orders instantly, and in moments were gone, disappeared from the entrance to the alleyway, with only the sounds of their boots fading into the distance.

Yaz and the Doctor stared after them for nearly a minute, in utter confusion. Then the Doctor abruptly came back to reality, and let her hand fall away from Yaz’s with an embarrassed cough. Yaz snatched hers back as well, and for a moment, neither of them looked at each other. 

“Well, that was—” Yaz said, staring straight at the alleyway entrance.

“At least it worked.” The Doctor too, was furiously ignoring Yaz, even as she kicked herself. How many steps backwards was that? Ten?

“Yeah.” She heard Yaz shuffle her feet beside her, and out of the corner of her eye, saw her glance to the ground. “Shall we, um, get back to the boys?”

“Oh—yeah. Yeah!” the Doctor took this reprieve gratefully, and jerked to life. She took a bounding step forward, had the instinct to grab Yaz’s hand—it was the easiest way to drag people along to where she wanted to go—but swallowed that urge. Instead, she chose to wave her along. “C’mon, Yaz, before they change their minds!”

They set off in the direction of the TARDIS, and somehow, succeeded in not looking at each other the entire way there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it’s ya boi back, and I apologize for the amount of fluff here. It’s ridiculous, honestly.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kind comments! I’m really behind in answering, but I really appreciate every single one <3

There were only two beds. 

_Two beds._

Ryan and Yaz shared a quick glance, less than a millisecond, really, then Ryan piped up, “Uh, Granddad and I can take a bed, right?”

He was still eying the bed uneasily, as if calculating how far he and Graham could possibly be spaced apart with neither party falling off the side, but other than that, he seemed reluctantly acquiescent to the idea. Graham seemed agreeable as well, and for the first time in their travels, the Doctor wished that Ryan and Graham’s bonding hadn’t gone so well. If it hadn’t, one of them might have volunteered to sleep on the floor, which would have cleared the way for the _Doctor_ to sleep on the floor, and now it was all just going to look very uncomfortable when she went to do the thing she was about to do.

“And I’ll sleep on the floor,” Yaz said hurriedly, startling the Doctor out of her ruminations. For a moment, she just gaped, confused. Hang on. That was what she’d planned—

“No, uh, Yaz. I’m going to sleep on the floor.” She stated it as if it were obvious, in the hopes that Yaz would take it as such, and not argue.

But then, she should have known better. It was Yaz.

“No, Doctor, that’s fine.” Yaz was slightly pink now, the Doctor noticed, but she was pretty sure this time it was from embarrassment. Embarrassment at pushing the topic, or at refusing to share a bed, she couldn’t be sure. Small comfort. “You can take the bed, since you’re um…older than me.”

Now the Doctor really was gaping. “Oi, I don’t look a day over 200, thanks very much! And I’m perfectly capable of sleeping on the floor. Actually, since I’m not even that tired, I was going to stay up and read. So it’ll be a waste of a bed.”

“Uh, what were you planning on reading—?” Ryan began, only to shut up as the Doctor leveled him with a glare. 

Good. He was ruining her perfectly thought out lie.

But Yaz was pursing her lips, and the Doctor groaned internally. Of course she was going to argue. Yaz wasn’t a police officer for nothing. She had an idea of what was right and what was wrong, and she stuck with it. Even if that meant sleeping on the floor.

“Doctor, I wouldn’t feel right sleeping on—” she began.

“Oh, bloody hell. Why don’t you both just share it?”

Funny, how fast Graham had rocketed past Tim Shaw on the Doctor’s list of people she strongly didn’t like.

They both turned to Graham, and, to his credit, he refused to shrink under their combined glowers. Instead, he stuck out a hand towards the beds. “Oh, c’mon. We all know it’s not the best accommodations, but you yourself said it’s just for one night, Doc. Just until the TARDIS finishes refueling.”

The Doctor stared at Graham in utter betrayal. He stared back, nonplussed, as she opened and closed her jaw several times, trying and failing to come up with an excuse. The problem was, there wasn’t one. At least, not from his point of view. And one side-eyed look at Yaz told her that she wasn’t the only one getting hit by the same train of thought.

The Doctor settled on a scowl, then realized that looked too confrontational for what was _supposed_ to be a non-issue, and shifted it into a weak smile. It took a fair bit of effort. “Huh. Yeah, you’re right, Graham. Yaz, are you okay with that?”

She looked at Yaz, and hoped against hope that Yaz would manage to dredge up an excuse where the Doctor had failed. Unfortunately, she didn’t. She, too, looked at Graham for a long moment, a distinctly unpleasant expression on her face, and then nodded. 

The problem, the Doctor might have admitted later, though only under duress, was that really, it wasn't that much of a problem. Sure, as they crawled into bed, a thick layer of embarrassment sent them diving towards opposite sides of the mattress—but then, so did Ryan and Graham as well. And it wasn't a small bed—there was enough space to maintain a healthy distance between them, enough covers to share, and plenty of pillows. They didn’t even have to get close. Even Yaz, judging by the fading blush on her cheeks, had come to the realization that this wasn’t going to be that bad.

And it occurred to the Doctor, after she’d wished Yaz goodnight and turned to face the opposite wall—didn’t hurt to be safe—that this was actually sort of nice. Better than sharing a bed with Ryan or Graham, anyway. Better than sleeping on the floor. 

Until she woke up, around one in the morning.

She only knew the time because she woke up directly to the face of the digital clock sitting on the small table that separated the two beds. Its red numbers shone starkly in the otherwise dark room, and for a few seconds the Doctor stared at them blearily, wondering why her internal clock had decided to wake her up at one when she’d definitely set it for eight.

Then she heard a mumble from the opposite side of the bed, followed by a quiet cry. 

The Doctor froze, suddenly wide awake and listening hard. Had somebody, or something—?

Another murmur came, distressed, then she felt the mattress shift underneath her, and that was when it hit—a dream. Or, a nightmare. Yaz’s, judging by the direction of the noise.

The Doctor rolled over, and caught Yaz’s outline against the streetlight filtering in through the curtains. As she watched, Yaz turned onto her side, and her hand fell across the empty space between them. She mumbled something again, and this time the Doctor caught “Please—don’t—”

The Doctor winced in sympathy, and watched her for a moment, debating. She recalled reading somewhere that it wasn’t necessary to wake humans up from bad dreams—but then, from the look on her face, this one was particularly nasty. And as she watched, Yaz let out another, heartrending cry, and cringed—

The Doctor decided. She reached out, and grasped Yaz’s hand. “Hey, Yaz,” she whispered. “Yaz, I think you’re—”

Yaz jolted awake, and nearly snatched her hand back, but then she saw who was holding it and relaxed. Her eyes darted around the dark room, apprehensive and unsure, before settling on the Doctor and something seemed to click. She let out a relieved breath, and the Doctor watched her shoulders, silhouetted against the frail light, untense. 

“Was I—?” she asked, and at the Doctor’s nod, trailed off into embarrassed silence. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The Doctor smiled, and hoped Yaz could see it in the darkness. “I don’t mind, you know. Do they happen a lot?”

“N—” Yaz began to say, but then she saw the look on the Doctor’s face and stopped. “Okay, yeah. A bit. Just in the last while, though.”

“Huh.” The Doctor’s smile faded away. “The last while? Did you have them before you came on the TARDIS?”

Yaz shook her head, almost guiltily, and then when the Doctor opened her mouth to reply, hurried to back it up. “But it’s not—it’s nothing to do with you, Doctor! I mean—I don’t want to leave the TARDIS, because of them. It’s not a big deal.”

The Doctor couldn’t resist a quiet laugh at the sudden trepidation that sprang in her eyes, coupled with a wide-eyed determination. “I know, I didn’t—you don’t have to leave, Yaz. _I_ don’t want you to leave.”

And just as she said it, the Doctor realized abruptly how true that was. There was no way she was going to kick Yaz off the TARDIS, even if she was having nightmares because, selfishly enough, she liked her too much (and not in _that_ way, thank you very much). Yaz was kind, and quick-witted, and had a thoughtless sort of bravery that made the Doctor want to applaud, even as she had to jerk her back by the jacket hem. So if she was having nightmares, as a result of their travels, then—well, the Doctor would just have to help her through them.

Yaz was watching her, uncertainty glimmering in her eyes, and since they were still holding hands, the Doctor smiled again and gave her palm a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it? I might be able to help.”

Visible relief flashed across Yaz’s face, enough that the Doctor ignored the small _oh no_ in the back of her head when she saw Yaz’s gaze dart swiftly to their linked hands, before returning to her face. A compromising situation, sure, but—there were more important things at stake. Namely, Yaz’s mental health.

“Thanks, Doctor.” She smiled, a little too gratefully, but the Doctor decided to chalk that up to relief at staying onboard. “And, uh—I don’t think it’s that complicated, really. I mean, I can tell what my brain is telling me.”

“Yeah?” the Doctor murmured, mostly focused on Yaz’s words but also just a little distracted by the soft, sleepy way she blinked, nearly yawning, at the end of her sentence. “Why, what’s it telling you?”

Yaz gave a small shrug, just a little too casual. “It’s not always the same dream, but it’s always the same, uh, ending I guess. That we go somewhere, or we’re some place we’ve been, and we try to help out, like we always do, right? But we always fail, in the end. _I_ always fail, specifically.”

She wasn’t quite looking at the Doctor as she said it, her eyes on the wrinkled sheets between them, and at the end of her explanation her voice dropped off so quiet that the Doctor had to strain to hear it at all. She did, though, and as the penny dropped, it took her hearts along with it.

“Oh, _Yaz,_ ” she murmured, and, without thinking, began to move her thumb in comforting circles over Yaz’s hand. “That’s—you know none of that is your fault, right? All you can do is your best.”

“I know,” Yaz whispered. Her eyes were still on the sheets, studiously avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. She was quiet for another long second, and the Doctor watched her shoulders rise and fall with the movement of her breath.

After a while, she spoke. “So I actually might have lied, a bit, when I said I’ve never had those dreams. I mean, they started when I came onto the TARDIS, but I used to get similar ones, back when I first started policing. Just for a bit, though. Then they went away.”

“Why d’you think they went away?”

“I don’t know.” Yaz lifted her eyes to meet the Doctor’s and gave a half-hearted smile. “Guess I realized I wasn’t going to do anything but parking disputes for a while, and the stress sort of…left.”

“Huh.” The Doctor considered this, a slight frown crinkling her features. “Okay. Well, we can’t have you do space parking disputes, unless you _do_ want to sit out a few…?”

Yaz shook her head vigorously, eyes suddenly wide. “No, no way! I want to stay with you, Doctor. Wherever you are—you guys are going.”

The Doctor tried not to wince at the quick, and entirely unsubtle correction. Not the time to be worrying about silly little crushes. “Alright, then. I can speak to the TARDIS, if you want. Tell her to lay back on the distress signals for a bit. Then we can do something fun for a while, how does that sound?”

Yaz didn’t seem entirely enthusiastic at the idea. She bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something, and the Doctor’s gaze followed the movement, only for a moment. A moment, and then Yaz spoke.

“Doctor, we can’t just stand by because I—”

The Doctor jolted guiltily back to the conversation, and her eyes flew up to Yaz’s worried gaze. Quickly, she gave her hand another squeeze, which reminded her that their hands were still linked, which probably wasn’t a good thing, but then—it was just to comfort, wasn’t it? She was just being a good friend. Nothing more. “Yaz, you don’t have to worry about that. Seriously, time machine, remember? We can always go back to those distress calls. But there’s nothing wrong with taking a break, either.”

Yaz eyed her uncertainly for a moment. Then, she gave in, and cracked a small smile. The Doctor returned it gratefully. “Yeah, I suppose the boys won’t be too upset about that either, will they? We can go to the planet with the spoon people Ryan keeps talking about.”

The smile dropped off the Doctor’s face. “Oi, I keep saying, they’re not _spoon_ people, they just have a passing resemblance—”

She stopped as Yaz let out a quiet giggle, which she pulled her hand back to stifle almost immediately, leaving the Doctor’s own hand bare and empty. She pulled it back as well, tucking it beneath her cheek, and furiously swallowed the urge to laugh in return, because it wasn’t a laugh that came from saying anything funny, but rather the kind that came from making somebody else laugh, and having your hearts swell unexpectedly, because they were laughing at _your—_

But that didn’t _mean_ anything. The Doctor was simply happy she’d cheered Yaz up. Nothing more.

“So, do you feel ready to go back to sleep?” she ventured, all of a sudden desperate to cut off whatever that moment was, because she sensed a sort of danger about it, and didn’t dare wade in further. Yaz removed her hand from her mouth and slipped it under her head, nodding. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Doctor.”

“Nothing of it.” The Doctor smiled, and couldn’t help its sincerity, even though she _knew_ she shouldn’t be encouraging whatever…whatever feeling had just fluttered briefly in her chest. “And if you have any more nightmares, I’m always here, alright?”

Yaz nodded. “Yeah. I know. Thanks.”

It was strange how the space between them on the bed seemed to have shrunken. The Doctor stared at it, and wondered if it would have been proper to place pillows between. It really couldn’t be more than two feet. Maybe less. And they’d been holding _hands._

“Right.” She swallowed, suddenly nervous of—of what? and turned to the other side, to face the clock she’d woken up to. She peered blankly at the lumpy shapes of Ryan and Graham, both softly snoring. “Night, Yaz.”

“Night, Doctor.” On the other side of the bed, she felt Yaz do the same, turning to face the window, and couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. Awkwardness avoided. Somewhat.

She stayed awake until she heard Yaz’s breathing shift, turning slow and steady, and then it didn’t take her long before she drifted off too. A strange sort of contentment washed over her as she did, warm and comforting, and tinged with accomplishment. She had helped Yaz. Avoided all the pitfalls, and figured out something that would, hopefully, make her feel better. And she hadn’t even done any of that accidental flirting Amy had once accused her of doing. Nope. Nothing to be misconstrued. Just Yaz and the Doctor, two good friends, one trying to help the other.

*

“Do you think we should wake them up?”

“I don’t know, they look pretty….comfortable.”

“Yeah, but it’s nearly 10:00, and hotel checkout’s at 10:30. And I don’t want to be around if the Doctor finds out we let her miss breakfast.”

“You mean, _you_ don’t want to miss breakfast, Granddad?”

“….”

“…Alright, hold your horses, I’ll wake ‘em up.”

The Doctor caught most of the conversation, almost as if it were a dream, and didn’t pay too close attention, until she heard footsteps approaching the bed. She frowned, eyes still closed, and snuggled deeper into the covers, not willing to leave. Her arms were wrapped around something warm, and her nose and cheek were pressed into something soft, something which smelled like a shampoo she vaguely recognized, but couldn’t place.

“Doctor!” a voice called softly, and she felt a hand on her shoulder, then a gentle shake.

“Mmmm…” she burrowed deeper, wrapping her arms tighter around the person beside her, tugging her close. Didn’t Ryan understand how _warm_ she was? Breakfast could wait. “G’away.”

“Doctor, you’re going to miss breakfast.”

“ _I’m_ going to miss breakfast.” A slightly impatient voice, farther away, called. The Doctor just gave a slight shake of her head. She felt Ryan’s hand leave her shoulder, and from close above heard a sigh.

“I give up. They’re entangled.”

Who was he talking…?

Beside her, the Doctor felt somebody stir, then raise their head, mumbling. “Ryan, what…?”

Ryan’s voice came in an annoyed huff. “C’mon, Yaz, don’t you want breakfast?”

“Mmm…maybe.” The Doctor heard a huge, familiar yawn, and felt the person beside her shift again, her head moving away from the Doctor’s cheek. The scent of the shampoo faded slightly, and as it did, the Doctor finally realized where she recognized it from.

Yaz. She was pressed against Yaz.

Yaz realized at the same moment the Doctor did, and they sprung apart so fast that Ryan let out a noise of surprise. “Uh—”

The Doctor jerked up into a sitting position, so red—since when did she get _red?_ —that she could feel her cheeks burning, a sensation she had not oft felt in the past 2000 years, and which she decided immediately she didn’t like. Beside her, she could practically _feel_ the embarrassment coming off of Yaz, as hot as if somebody had placed a radiator between them, and she had to take a moment to collect herself before looking up into the faces of Graham and Ryan.

As she expected, it was immediately unpleasant. Graham was simply staring, mouth open in shock, which, as the Doctor watched, turned into a raised eyebrows sort of expression, the kind of which she had to strongly resist returning a nasty gaze. Ryan just looked as if he wanted to laugh, and she couldn’t tell which was worse. 

Then, Ryan actually did let out the smallest of chuckles, though he quickly hid it, and the Doctor decided that it was him.

She had no idea how Yaz was reacting because she couldn’t bring herself to look at her, but the Doctor figured that if her own hearts were pounding, then Yaz’s had to be going twice as fast. Poor Yaz.

And _she_ had caused it. 

Next time, the Doctor decided vehemently, she was just going to take the floor. 

“Right!” she said loudly, and swung her legs over the side, shooting upright so fast that Ryan, standing in the gap between the two beds, stumbled backwards. “Breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, if you read my last note about the fanzine, AND you’re interested in participating, and want to see your work featured, we’ve just posted our submission guidelines on the fanzine blog, and submission applications are going to open up in a few days! Check it out here: https://thirteenfanzine.tumblr.com/ if you’re interested, and spread the word! We’re also on Twitter at @thirteenfanzine as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for the comments, you guys are amazing, really. and im glad you all liked the Doctor and Yaz's awkward bed sharing, ngl i had fun writing that. this one is a bit different, but i had fun writing it as well :)

They were supposed to meet back at the TARDIS, but with the way her negotiations had been going, the Doctor wasn’t sure all of them would make it. It all depended on if the emperor had been bluffing when he’d told her he sent out the notice of arrest for her three companions. He was a bit cheeky, but he had a strict face and she couldn’t be sure. Which was probably why he was so good at negotiating.

Oh well. Next time, she wouldn’t try to haggle a peace deal with an emperor nicknamed ‘the Great Negotiator”. 

She made it back first, tramping through the red and orange vines that draped the forest on the outskirts of the city, and pushed away one final bough—which snapped back at her rather rudely—to reveal the TARDIS, nestled in a small clearing. Alone. Her face fell at the sight, but only for a moment, before the sounds of hurried footsteps came from her right. The Doctor spun around, hands up just in case, but then Ryan and Graham stumbled through a gap in the thick underbrush, Yaz supported between them.

Yaz, who was barely conscious. Yaz, who as the Doctor watched, sagged between them, her chin dropping towards her chest, her skin waxy and pale.

“What happened?” she demanded, and rushed forward, scooping Yaz out from their arms and into her own. Yaz collapsed into them, and mumbled something she couldn’t make out.

“We don’t know!” Ryan shook his head, his eyes wide and panicky. He gestured towards Yaz. “They saw us when we were trying to break out the prince, and Yaz tried to buy us some time, but then they sprayed her with—with—”

“It looked like pepper spray, Doc,” Graham told her, as his eyes cast worriedly in Yaz’s direction. “But it didn’t affect her at first, so she got away, but then when we were running—”

“She just collapsed,” Ryan finished, and as if to accentuate his statement, the Doctor felt Yaz sag against her, and wrapped her arms tighter around, keeping her upright. 

The Doctor swallowed, hearts pounding fast, and glanced at Yaz, who, she now noticed was nearing complete unconsciousness. “Alright, let’s get into the TARDIS. Yaz, can you hear me? We’re going into the TARDIS, and I’m going to have a scan.”

Yaz didn’t answer, so the Doctor just hoisted her upright, and half-carried, half-stumbled with her through the doors. They barely made it inside before the Doctor felt Yaz give out completely. She had only a moment to catch her before she crashed to the floor, nearly taking the Doctor with her. Ryan and Graham tumbled in behind, and shut the door, watching nervously as the Doctor leaned Yaz up against the wall and whipped her sonic screwdriver out.

Within moments, she had an answer, and when she saw the readings, both her hearts sank. It wasn’t a good one.

“Likosian spray,” she muttered, and took in a breath, nostrils flaring. “Oh, I understand now. You’re right, Graham, it is a bit like pepper spray, the police here aren’t big on lethal weapons either, but—oh, now it makes _sense—”_

“What makes sense?” Ryan asked. The Doctor glanced up at him, eyes dark, and gestured towards Yaz. 

“It didn’t affect her immediately because she’s not of the Likos tribe, she’s human. But for them, it really is just to incapacitate, and to humans—”

“Don’t say it’s lethal, Doctor.” Graham’s voice was quiet, strained. The Doctor just looked back to Yaz, who now appeared completely unconscious, head lolling, skin looking sicklier and sicklier by the second. The Doctor stared for a second, jaw clenched. She would have to—but that would be crossing a _line—_

“There is something I can do,” she answered, her eyes still glued on Yaz. “I can—sort of draw it out, put it in myself, because it won’t affect me, I’m immune. Might get a stomachache later, but that’s fine.”

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Ryan asked impatiently. He flung a hand out towards Yaz. “Do it, Doctor, save her!”

“I—” the Doctor was still staring at Yaz, and for just a fraction of a second, uncertainty crossed her face. “Yes, but—oh, who am I kidding, what does it matter?”

She said this more than herself to the others, and ignored it when they looked to each other in confusion. She began rolling back her sleeves, though she wasn’t sure why, then carefully slid her hand under the small of Yaz’s back, and eased her into an upright position.

“Yaz? Yaz, can you hear me?”

For a second, it didn’t look as if she could. But then, weakly, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at the Doctor, gaze glassy and unfocused. 

“Doctor, wha—it hurts—”

“Don’t worry, Yaz, I’m going to fix it.” The Doctor’s gaze was serious, her eyes fixed on Yaz, who just gave a small nod, her eyes flickering over her face. “You’ve been poisoned, but I’m going to do something to draw it out, okay? I’m doing this to make you better. That’s all.”

Yaz frowned slightly in confusion at the last words, but then a ripple of pain seemed to pass over her. Her face scrunched up, and she let out a small cry. “Ow…it…”

“Brave heart, Yaz,” the Doctor whispered, the words soft enough so as not to be heard outside the two of them. Then, before any of the others had the time to realize what she was about to do, the Doctor leaned forward and pressed her lips to Yaz’s.

Behind her, she heard twin gasps of surprise, but ignored them, and breathed in deeply, because it wasn’t a kiss, not _really._ She just had to save Yaz, because there was no way the Doctor was going to have a universe without her. Especially not when the only thing standing between her and death was a little kiss.

Which wasn’t, technically, a _kiss._

She held it for several long seconds, and felt the poisonous chemicals flow into her body, and tried not to think about the fact that _her_ lips were pressed against _Yaz’s,_ which were surprisingly soft, and that her mouth, beyond the poisonous chemicals, tasted like strawberry chapstick, which definitely wasn’t too bad, and—

She wasn’t sure when the kiss turned real. Maybe when she noticed the strawberry chapstick, or maybe when she felt the rush of poisonous chemicals end, and still didn’t pull away, or maybe when she felt Yaz move beneath her as she came back to consciousness, then felt her lean forward, her hands find purchase on her suspenders— 

A cough brought her back to reality, and the Doctor jerked backwards, only to be caught by Yaz’s hands, still wrapped around her suspenders, and ended up falling into her instead. They momentarily collapsed together, and then the Doctor found new momentum and scrambled backwards, as did Yaz, in the opposite direction. 

“So….” Graham was pointedly looking away, but he swept a hand towards Yaz. “She okay, Doctor?” 

“Uh—” the Doctor gulped, trying to find words. She was usually good at those. “Uh, yeah. Course she is. Can’t let Yaz die!” 

“Oh, thank god.” Ryan’s face split into a relieved grin, as did Graham’s, though there was something suspiciously humorous about it that made the Doctor’s eyes narrow. “Yaz, we really thought you were a goner.” 

“Well, I’m not.” Yaz straightened up against the wall, and brought up a hand to wipe at her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and brought it down again. Her eyes anxiously found the Doctor. “Uh, are you okay, Doctor?” 

“Y-yeah.” The Doctor nodded, and wondered how well her fam would see through that. “I’m fine. That stuff won’t affect me, not like it affects humans. I just had to get it out of you, and that chemical has a special property that allows me to—” 

“Yeah, we saw that part,” Graham interrupted quickly, as Yaz averted her gaze to the floor. “Anyway, shouldn’t we be getting off this planet?” 

“Yeah. Yes. ‘Course we should. Spot on observation, Graham!” the Doctor lurched to her feet, and practically ran towards the console. Yaz got to her feet much slower, and when she looked back, she was relieved to note that Graham was helping her to her feet. It crossed her mind that perhaps she should have been the one to help her up, but then she pushed that thought away. 

Probably best to stay away, at this point. 

* 

After the… _not-kiss,_ something changed between them. The Doctor refused to put a name to that change, but she felt it nonetheless, hovering in the air between them whenever they so much as glanced at each other, thick and palpable as the heat rising from the asphalt on a hot summer day. It made things awkward between the fam, which the Doctor hated, and so she dove into what she did best; ignoring the problem. Or rather, distancing herself from the problem. 

She stopped handing things to Yaz. She stopped calling Yaz over to specifically show her something interesting she’d spotted, only because she knew she’d especially appreciate it. She stopped handing out an exorbitant amount of points to Yaz—and _really,_ how had she been giving her so many points? She stopped dividing their little foursome up between Graham and Ryan, and herself and Yaz. Instead she mixed it up between Graham and Yaz, Ryan and Yaz, the Doctor and Graham—anything but the Doctor and Yaz. 

And after a few weeks of sorting things out, the Doctor took a step back, looked at her efforts, and decided that, yes, she’d done everything in her power to break up whatever it was going on between her and Yaz. 

Except that now she was miserable. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Graham and Ryan; she _did,_ loved them like family, loved spending time with them, but—she missed Yaz. Every time she split their little group up, she watched Yaz’s face fall, and felt her own hearts fall along with it. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she would watch Yaz go off with her head hung a little low, shoulders sagging, and wondered if she looked the same. She certainly felt it. 

“You know, you don’t have to ignore her like that,” Graham told her once, completely out of the blue, as they made their way through a dark, winding tunnel, with only their torches to cast garish shadows across the stone walls. The Doctor cast him a hard look, and said stiffly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Graham’s snort echoed off the tunnel walls. “Oh, c’mon, Doc. I see what you’re doing. So does Ryan, and Yaz, for that matter. You’re cutting her off, and it ain’t right. Not to mention, all those glances you keeping giving her when you think nobody’s looking.” 

The Doctor shone her torch up to the ceiling, just to check for bats, though she knew none existed on this planet. “Now I _really_ don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She could sense Graham’s disbelieving look, but decided the darkness of the tunnel justified her decision not to look at him. Problem was, she knew exactly what he was talking about, and that only made the observation sting more. 

Ever since the kiss (which definitely wasn’t a kiss), the Doctor hadn’t been able to stop looking at Yaz. Glancing out of the corner of her eye when she made a funny joke, just to see if she was laughing. Looking over whenever she did something particularly impressive, to make sure that Yaz had caught it. And sometimes, she simply found herself staring as Yaz talked, caught up in her smile, her laugh, her presence. 

It was an ongoing issue, and one for which she hadn’t yet been able to find a solution. Her other one, which was working so well in keeping them apart, had the opposite effect here; the longer she stayed apart from Yaz, the more the Doctor found herself gazing wistfully, hearts panging just to _speak_ to her. 

Not that she couldn’t. And they did talk. Only now it was all stilted, and filled with nerves about something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. 

“That’s absolute rubbish, that is.” Graham’s incredulous voice pulled the Doctor from her reverie. “Listen, I don’t know what exactly’s going on between the two of you, but—talking helps, you know. It always helps.” 

His voice turned soft towards the end, and encouraging enough that the Doctor almost believed it—but then she remembered the not-kiss, and the way Yaz looked at her, and how painful it would be when she had to break it that she just didn’t see things that way— 

The Doctor’s hearts jumped into her throat. She shook her head, knowing full well Graham couldn’t see it. “You’re right, Graham. Talking always helps. There just isn’t anything to talk about. I really _don’t_ know what you mean.” 

Graham’s silence was loud enough to fill the entire tunnel. They continued that way for several minutes longer, until the Doctor couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I think we’re on the wrong planet,” she announced crossly, and stopped, then spun on her heel. “There’s no Gilorian crystals here. We’ll have to find something else to use to get into the hot springs.” 

She heard Graham huff next to her, and watched his shadow on the wall as he turned around. “You mean we walked all this way for nothing? What are we going to tell Ryan and Yaz? They’ve been standing guard for an hour, at least.” 

The Doctor shrugged, and her eyes fell to a the edge of her torch’s light, where something purple glimmered. Quickly, she cast the light of her torch away, to a different part of the wall. “Dunno. But I bet I could trade for some, if I whip up something for the Falgorians. They really like getting new—” 

And she continued on, talking loudly over Graham’s rather crabbish silence, and prayed that he wouldn’t ask any more questions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to all you interested in the fanzine, we're opening submission applications in two days, aka Monday, March 25, for two weeks (so, until April 8th). If you want to know more, check out our tumblr at thirteenfanzine, or our twitter @thirteenfanzine. also, you can totally shoot me any questions if you have them :))


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, the Doctor should have known that going into the abandoned mining tunnels on the planet Gilor would not be a good idea. For her, specifically.

Gilorian dust—of which the tunnels were full of—was a strange thing. It had little to no effect on the average one-hearted bipedal, other than the occasional sneeze. However, for no particularly reason, it had a surprising tendency to make two-hearted bipedals very, very sick.

They were three days on the other side of their ill-destined venture into the Gilorian mining tunnels, after they’d tried and failed to get into the Falgorian hot springs, when the fam decided they wanted a day at home. Particularly Graham, who got itchy after too long without a proper breakfast, and claimed he liked a day at home where he could be sure nothing was going to go sideways, despite the Doctor’s protestations that anything was possible, even in Sheffield.

Since they were only planning to take the day, the Doctor decided that, rather than jumping ahead, she would set the TARDIS down and wait it out. Possibly get some tinkering done in the meantime. There was always something to mess about with on the TARDIS, and the TARDIS usually let her, though she did have a way of shocking the Doctor’s fingers when she went just a little too far messing about with something she shouldn’t be touching.

She landed, as she always did, outside Yaz’s flat block, though this time it came with an unexpected jolt of apprehension, as if she weren’t allowed to be there anymore. As if, to land immediately outside of Yaz’s flat was a—a crossed boundary, of some sort. Which was ridiculous. 

And yet, the guilty feeling lingered.

The Doctor usually invited herself over for tea, but she didn’t this time. Instead, the moment they landed, she patted the console fondly, and said, “This one is really wanting for repairs, so I’ll see you lot tom— _achoo!”_

The entire fam turned to look at her in surprise. The Doctor stared back at them in equal confusion. “Sorry, was that me?”

One by one, they nodded. “You alright, Doctor?” Ryan asked. 

The Doctor nodded. “‘Course I am. Just a bit of— _achoo!”_

This time, the only one who looked surprised was the Doctor. The others seemed on the verge of amusement.

“Doctor, do you have a cold?” Ryan asked, a smile creeping up his face. The Doctor gave a vigorous shake of her head.

“Don't be ridiculous, colds are a— _achoo!_ —human thing,” she said, and tried to wave it off, only to bring her elbow to her nose instead as another sneeze took her by surprise. 

“Are they?” Graham’s eyebrows rose. “You sure about that?”

_“Yes,”_ the Doctor scowled, though she couldn’t quite pull off the look with her itchy nose and now-watering eyes. She swiped at her nose with her sleeve, ignoring the three looks of disgust she received, and turned to the console so as to specifically avoid looking at Yaz, who was now sporting a small crinkle of worry in her brow. “Really fam, I'm fine. Must be some of your pollen. We are in spring, aren't we? Or is it summer you have the allergies? I can never remember.”

“Spring,” Yaz answered. The Doctor’s eyes were still on the console, but she felt Yaz’s gaze on her all the same, prickling with worry. “Doctor, if you want I can—”

“What? No!” Quickly, the Doctor spun around and propped up against the console, in what she hoped was the picture of easy assurance. “I’m fine. _Really._ And you have a family to get to, so—”

She made a shooing gesture with her hands towards the door, and paired it with a smile that was only barely forced. She kept it up as they eyed her uncertainly, before turning towards the door, and only dropped it when she heard the final, resounding click of the lock. Then she let out a sigh, and sagged against the console in relief, the near-miss lingering uncomfortably on her skin. One more sneeze, and Yaz might have insisted on spending the entire day in the TARDIS with the Doctor— _alone._ The Doctor shuddered at the thought. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep up her act, were they to be together for any extended period of time. Not without Ryan and Graham there to serve as a buffer.

She shook her head at her own weakness, and pushed herself off of the console, only to stumble slightly as a surge of vertigo hit her.

“Huh,” she muttered, and put a hand to her head. She felt warm, but not distinctly so. Then again, the entire room was warm. Uncomfortably so. “Maybe I _am_ getting a cold.”

She brought her hand down, and shrugged. She knew that humans went to work with colds, even sent their children to school with them. Probably wasn’t anything serious.

She took a step forward, half-distractedly wondering if she had accidentally turned the temperature up, when a second wave of dizziness crashed over her. The Doctor blinked, looked around just enough to notice the room was spinning, but didn’t have time to worry about that, because then she looked down at the floor, just in time to see it rushing up to meet her.

*

“Doctor? Doctor!”

Someone was shaking her shoulders gently. The Doctor groaned, hoping that would be enough to get them to stop. It did nothing to help the dizziness in her brain.

Surprisingly, as soon as she groaned, the shaking stopped, though the hands didn’t leave her shoulders. Instead they smoothed over the lapels of her coat, then she felt a cool palm press against her forehead. She sighed at the touch, and heard a worried tongue-cluck in response.

“Doctor, you’re completely burning up. Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

“’M fine…” the Doctor muttered, and to prove it, lifted her hand weakly to push the hand on her forehead away. Her efforts proved no match; the hand stayed in place. “Jus’ tired…”

A quiet laugh came from above, stained-through with not entirely forgotten disapproval. “Yeah, I should think so. Doctor, I think you’ve got the flu.”

The Doctor tried to shake her head, only to find that it contributed to her wooziness. She settled for cracking one bleary eye open. “I can’t get the…Yaz?”

She cracked another eye open, just to confirm, and Yaz smiled at her. “Who’d you think it was?”

“You’re not supposed…why’re you in the TARDIS?” She tried to raise her head to look at her, but the motion sent a sickening wave of nausea through her, and she let it drop back against the hard floor. Probably not the best idea, she realized only too late, but Yaz seemed to realize it too, for her hand left her forehead, and caught her before she hit. 

“I forgot my jacket,” Yaz said, and as she spoke leaned in closer to the Doctor, cradling her head as she slipped her other hand around her back to maneuver her into a sitting position. “And I’d left with it on, so I didn’t want them to ask too many questions.”

“Mmm…that’s…smart,” the Doctor murmured, eyelids fluttering shut again. She let Yaz help her into a sitting position, and figured that she was probably right about the flu, because not only was her head spinning and her stomach turning, but her hearts were pounding wildly out of control as well. “Was I…sleeping, then?”

Yaz laughed again, softly, and the Doctor found herself smiling goofily, for no particular reason at all. She always loved making Yaz laugh, but there was something about this particular one that she especially liked. 

“No, dummy, you were passed out on the floor. Nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you were dead.”

The Doctor had no answer for this, so she just nodded numbly, then immediately wished she hadn’t. “Ooh…I don’t feel good.”

“Really?” There was far too strong of a mocking note in Yaz’s tone, but since the Doctor had no strength to formulate a suitable response, she chose to let it go. Her eyes were half-closed still, so she felt rather than saw Yaz lean in to fully wrap her arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“Huh?” the Doctor frowned, and made an effort to open her eyes. “No, wait…I have repairs…”

“You’re in no shape to even hold a welding mask, Doctor.” Yaz’s voice was firm but gentle, and as she spoke she began to stand up, hoisting the Doctor to her feet as well. The Doctor followed along clumsily, weaving slightly as she made it upright, before finding stable purchase for her head on Yaz’s shoulder.

“Alright, then.” Yaz cast her eyes upwards, towards the central pillar of the console, and despite the effort it took to keep her eyes open, the Doctor watched her. There was something tugging at the back of her mind, like a puzzle almost solved, but every time she tried to focus on it, the answer she was trying to find dissolved into pieces again. She couldn’t even be sure of the question. So she just watched Yaz, as she looked up to the console, mouth turned down stubbornly, as if she wasn’t sure what answer to expect.

“No funny business, yeah? I just want to get the Doctor to her room, so she can rest.”

The Doctor thought she heard a beep of agreement, but she was too busy looking at Yaz to pay attention. Her hair was put up in buns, but a little messy, as if she’d let them come undone, and her eyes were determined but uncertain, as if she were afraid the TARDIS might say no. Which she very well might. The Doctor didn’t like sleeping in her room. Too many personal belongings. She used it more as storage than anything.

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, or rather, yawned, because she really was tired, now that she thought about it, “S’fine. I can just sleep here. I usually do anyway.”

“Yeah, sorry, not gonna happen.” Yaz shook her head, and pulled the Doctor close, probably to make sure she didn’t collapse onto the floor, but the Doctor appreciated it anyway, because it was close enough to be a hug, and they hadn’t really been close in—well, weeks.

Which was the Doctor’s fault. But still.

“No way I’m letting you pass out again on the floor.” Her voice was in her ear now, breath tickling against her cheek, and the Doctor could suddenly smell her shampoo all around, that shampoo she really quite liked, had always meant to ask where she bought it— 

_“Fine,”_ the Doctor sighed, because she wasn’t sure she had the proper words to protest; everything was muddled in her head, and Yaz was soft to lean against, and warm, which was nice because the temperature seemed to have plunged, and she was starting to shiver. “To my room it is.”

And then, because she was sick and it didn’t matter, she let her head nestle into Yaz’s shoulder, and ignored the little voice at the back of her head that said it was a bad idea, even when she caught the hitch in Yaz’s breath. 

She was sick, after all; couldn’t she have this one thing?

The stumbled together through the hallways, the Doctor slightly dragging her feet, as she let Yaz’s sure footsteps guide her along. She didn’t remember passing out again, but she must have been too out of it to notice their way, because the first she registered of their arrival was Yaz reaching out with her free hand to turn the dusty knob of the deep blue door she recognized as her bedroom.

“We’re here, Doctor.” Yaz pushed the door open, and the Doctor lifted her head to show she was making at least _some_ effort to stay conscious. In response, she felt Yaz’s grip tighten around her shoulders. She realized absently that her hand was slung over Yaz’s shoulders as well, and couldn’t recall putting it there—but then, she wasn’t complaining.

They stepped in together, and the Doctor barely looked up to take in the messy room, dusty since the last time she’d been there, with books and things from previous regenerations piled on the floor and stacked on the dresser the TARDIS had politely provided her, despite the fact that she didn’t much use it. The bed was mercifully free of things, but the sheets were rumpled and pulled back, and a weird gray color; they _had_ to be from her previous regeneration.

Yaz, however, paused, and the Doctor glanced up to see her wrinkle her nose in disapproval.

“Doctor, this place doesn’t look very sanitary. Are you sure you want to sleep here?”

“Mmm…” the Doctor gave a weak shrug. “Do we have to walk more?”

She felt Yaz shift beside her, and then give a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But I’m helping you clean your room after this.”

“Don’t bother,” the Doctor mumbled as Yaz helped her over to the bed. She collapsed on it with an enormous groan, sprawling spread-eagled, perpendicular to the pillows. “Don’t use it much anyways.”

The mattress shifted underneath her as Yaz thumped down as well, and a moment later she felt two hands on her side, giving an insistent nudge. “Hey, don’t be a lump. You have to get under the covers. And take your shoes off.”

“Don’t want to.”

_“Doctor,”_ Yaz groaned, exasperated, and pushed harder, as if to roll her over. The Doctor grinned into the sheets, and that same feeling from before tugged at the back of her mind—the feeling that she was missing something. The kind of thing she would realize, and then immediately want to smack herself over the head for.

“Doctor, I won’t stop until you get in bed properly.” Yaz’s hands went away, and then she felt the sheets being dragged out from under her. “C’mon, at least take your shoes off.”

The Doctor raised one hand to shoo her away. “M’fine. Thanks, Yaz, but really. You can go see your family now.”

“Yeah, right,” Yaz scoffed, and began pulling harder on the sheets. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving.”

_Not good,_ the voice at the back of her head screamed, but she wanted to shoo that voice away as well. Couldn’t it give her a rest? Awkwardness be damned, they could figure all that nonsense out later. For now, the Doctor just wanted to sleep.

And if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really want Yaz to leave either.

_Definitely not good,_ the voice stated smugly, and the Doctor groaned. Immediately, she felt a cool hand on the back of her neck.

“Wow, you really are burning up. Are you sure you don’t want to see anybody?”

“No, no.” The Doctor gave in, and rolled onto her back, still a far angle from the head of the bed, but it was some sort of improvement. Her eyes found Yaz, and she gave a lazy grin. “Human doctors won’t help. You’re fine Yaz. Just you.”

She wasn’t sure why she said that last part. A tad unnecessary.

Yaz wavered, clearly uncertain. Then she sighed, and gestured towards the pillows. “Alright, but can you at least take your shoes off, and get into bed like a normal person?”

The Doctor turned her head to look at the pillows, and decided they weren’t too far away. “I guess.”

She managed to unsteadily clamber into the correct position for sleeping, and then kicked her shoes off as Yaz took the opportunity to pull back her blanket, possibly fearful that she might fall asleep atop of it again. The Doctor settled into the sheets, and allowed Yaz to pull the blanket up, feeling slightly misplaced. Usually she was the one taking care of people, not the opposite way around. In fact, it had been near centuries since she had gotten sick; the last time had been when she and Amy had gone to Gilor for—oh.

Right. Gilorian dust.

The Doctor suddenly felt very stupid. 

“Feeling any better?” Yaz had moved up to perch on the edge of the mattress, barely a foot away from her, and the Doctor stared at her with an abruptly strange lucidity, noting the shine of her hair, the way her eyes glittered in the low light. The shy way she smiled at the Doctor when she thought she couldn’t see, quick and half-hidden, and worlds away from the smile she used in front of the others. In front of the Doctor.

Only she was wearing that shy smile now, boldly out in the open, her eyes soft and kind, and filled with a tender sort of laughter. The Doctor stared, and realized she was staring, and didn’t stop. That puzzle was ticking at the back of her mind, impatiently, demanding an answer.

“Doctor?” the smile dropped, as Yaz’s brow creased with concern. She waved a hand in front of the Doctor’s face. “Are you okay? Your eyes are really bright. I think your fever might be spiking.”

Maybe it was, because the Doctor was pretty sure Yaz had never glittered quite like that before, never caught the light in such a way, but she was loathe to break her gaze because it was an absurdly beautiful sight. And beneath it all, that smug voice at the back of her head screamed a litany of warnings— _you have to be careful, you can’t get too close, you can’t let her fall for you, it’s just a silly crush, it’ll ruin your friendship, you can’t be in love with—_

_I’m in love with Yasmin Khan._

The puzzle stopped ticking. The Doctor only too late realized that she was grinning, all loopy and unfocused.

“Doctor, are you okay? Maybe I should—”

Yaz moved to stand, for what the Doctor didn’t know, but she reached out and caught her by the shirt hem. 

“No—wait,” she croaked. “Don’t go.”

Yaz sat back down, uncertain. “I think you should really—”

“I know what it is,” she said, and her hand slipped away from Yaz’s shirt hem, and fell not-so-accidentally into her hand, sitting unsuspectingly by her side. She tangled their fingers together, and squeezed, shamelessly. “It’s the dust from Gilor, the mining planet. It makes me sick. I haven’t been there in so long, I completely forgot.”

“Oh.” Yaz’s eyes flickered down to their entwined hands, slightly confused, then back up to the Doctor’s face. “That’s good. Will it—will it pass?”

The Doctor nodded weakly, and felt her eyes start to slide shut. Her earlier, interrupted nap was taking its due. “I just need to rest. A few days’ rest, and I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Yaz said fervently, and this time it was her who gave the Doctor’s palm a reassuring squeeze, and the Doctor felt both her hearts skip a corresponding beat, one after the other. “Oh, _good._ I was worried.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor nodded again, and wanted to say more, wanted, maybe, to explain her miraculous realization, the puzzle she had finally solved but she was drifting away too fast. It would have to wait until morning. Whenever that was. “Love you, Yaz.”

Yaz’s eyes widened, and the Doctor caught it just before her eyes really _did_ slide shut, and her head fell to the side, but the last thing she heard, right before she slipped completely into unconsciousness, was a quiet, “I love you too, Doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaz, seeing her chance to care for the Doctor after being cared for a bajillion times: oh, how the turntables...
> 
> Anyway, more shameless fluff, and me squeezing as many tropes as I can into one, 5 chapter fic. Still fun though, I'll be real.
> 
> Also, fanzine applications are open!!! go apply if you want to be featured in an awesome fanzine for charity!!! Posts explaining everything are here: https://thirteenfanzine.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what, you thought I would make it that easy? that the Doctor would make it that easy? nah, I gotta add a teensy bit of last minute complications in. it makes it interesting :))

Two days later, the Doctor was back on her feet again, yet still reeling from her discovery.

She was in love with Yasmin Khan. She was _in love with Yasmin Khan._ So much wasted effort trying to prevent Yaz from accidentally falling in love with her, and she hadn’t realized that she was the one who had fallen, hook, line, and sinker. 

Which was a problem, because the Doctor couldn't fall in love with Yaz. It was too risky, too frightening, and too potentially painful—for the both of them. The Doctor had long since learned that there was no such thing as a happy ending for her when the word love was involved. She certainly was not going to rope Yaz into the same fate. 

Because Yaz deserved a nice, long, happy life with the partner of her choice. And that didn't include the Doctor.

Which created a bit of an issue, since the Doctor had near as confessed her love to Yaz, just before she’d passed out—and she knew Yaz had heard. And now she had to pretend that none of that had happened, that she had just been too dizzy from that Gilorian dust to know what she was saying.

Which was, coincidentally, exactly what she said, when Yaz brought it up four days after the event.

“So, um, Doctor,” she tried, leaning pseudo-casually over the console as the Doctor bent over the controls and pretended not to notice. Her fingers tapped nervously against a lever, right in the Doctor’s peripheral vision, distracting enough to bring her dangerously close to punching in the coordinates of a black hole’s event horizon.

“Yeah, Yaz?” the Doctor made sure not to look up, hoping that her mask of busyness would hide the flush creeping up her cheeks. Four days of waiting, and she _still_ wasn’t prepared for this conversation. 

“Um…so, you know when you…passed out? And I helped you to your room?” her fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the lever. A little harder, and she would force it down, sending them hurtling through the time vortex just a tad too early. The Doctor eyed them, then reached out, and placed her hand over Yaz’s fingers, stilling them. She steeled herself, then looked up into Yaz’s nervous gaze.

“I remember. And thank you, by the way. Don’t think I said that, properly.” She could only bear to meet her eyes for a few seconds before dropping her gaze back to the console. A safer sight, by far.

“Oh, um—it’s nothing.” Yaz drew back her hand, leaving the Doctor’s fingers to rest on the lever. She straightened up, away from the console, though the Doctor could feel her eyes on her all the same. “It’s just that—you said something, before you fell asleep. In your own bed, I mean.”

Her voice quivered on the last few words, and the Doctor stiffened slightly. Guilt surged through her, and for a brief second, she fully appreciated the courage it took Yaz to broach the difficult subject—courage the Doctor didn’t have. Then she pushed the thought away, and straightened up to face her, a bemused smile on her face.

“Did I?” she saw Yaz’s expression drop, and smiled harder to make up for it. Oh, how she hated doing this. “I’m sorry about that, Yaz, I must have been spouting nonsense. Don’t remember a thing.”

Okay, she didn’t have to go _that_ hard. She saw the knife twist in Yaz’s gut, clear and cruel, and her fingers itched to pull it out. She wanted instantly to smooth over the wound and apologize profusely, to admit that she _did_ remember, of course, how could she forget saying something like that?—only then a series of familiar faces flashed across her mind’s eye, a parade of people she had loved and lost, and she bit down on the apology. She wouldn’t do that. Not again.

They could just be mates. That would work, wouldn’t it?

By the look on Yaz’s face, it wouldn’t. She stared at the Doctor for a moment, hurt and betrayal glimmering in her eyes, and the Doctor only a moment too late realized that she hadn’t entirely bought it, before she turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving the Doctor to stare after helplessly, one had still resting on the take-off lever.

*

So maybe they couldn’t be mates.

The Doctor was quickly finding that out, just as she was finding out how unpleasant it was to be on the receiving end of the behavior she had inflicted on Yaz over the past few weeks. And worse, Ryan and Graham didn’t appear sympathetic to her plight at all; for every cold shoulder she received from Yaz, it was accompanied by a shrug and a shake of Ryan’s head, as Graham looked on with raised eyebrows that oh-so-clearly stated: _I told you so._

By week two, the Doctor was more miserable than she had been the entire time she’d tried (unsuccessfully) to distance herself from Yaz the whole month before. Now, not only was Yaz not talking to her, but she seemed angry as well, and the Doctor had no idea how to fix it. Other than telling her the truth.

And that, for obvious reasons, was unthinkable. The Doctor didn’t know much about romance, but she at least knew that you usually got one shot to admit your love for the other party. Fumble it, and there was no going back. 

And she had fumbled it. Which meant there was nothing to be done but deal with the cold silences and hurt glances, and wonder constantly if she had done the right thing.

She tried to reassure herself that she had, but it became harder as time went on. Especially since, now that the Doctor had so thoroughly bungled the situation, Yaz seemed to be going out of her way to make it worse.

Because Yaz had never struck the Doctor as much of a flirt, if she was one at all. She had never tried to flirt with the Doctor, though she had shown her affection in plenty of other ways. Yaz was too quiet, too steady of a soul, to be very flirtatious. 

Except that now she was flirting _constantly._ With every living thing that moved, it seemed, species and biological compatibility be damned, and always, _always,_ in sight of the Doctor. At first it was confusing, and then it became annoying, and then it just hurt. Particularly because the Doctor had a sneaking suspicion—no, more like a sneaking certainty—that Yaz was only doing it because she was mad. Mad, and possibly trying to make the Doctor jealous.

Which, the Doctor decided, just wouldn’t work. She was a 2000 year old Time Lord, for Rassilon’s sake; she didn’t do _jealousy._

But that feeling which prickled in her stomach when she dragged Yaz away _for the second time_ from that amorphous floating ball of gas came uncomfortably close. And it reared its head again when they were touring the famed Ukilo markets, and the Doctor turned around to find Yaz batting her eyes at a two-headed Hith’ua being, who smiled and winked as the Doctor grabbed her hand and yanked her away. And it was hard to ignore the blood pounding in her ears when Yaz began flipping her hair and giggling at the dashing young soldier who led them through the mined trenches in the middle of the Anorian skirmishes.

But the worst, the most painful instance came one night when Yaz wasn’t even meaning to make the Doctor jealous of all. 

Of all their adventures, this had to be the most mundane. Ryan had begged the Doctor for months to jump ahead, just a little bit, to catch some big movie coming out at the tail end of 2019. A movie he had, apparently, been waiting his whole life to see, though the Doctor suspected he might have been exaggerating for effect. But she acquiesced, though she wasn’t keen on sitting through factually inaccurate space movies, and with Yaz and Graham’s agreement, it wasn’t long before the Doctor found herself holding a tub of popcorn and examining one of the movie posters displayed around the lobby of the cinema, as she and Ryan waited for Yaz and Graham to figure out what kind of sweets they wanted.

“Inaccurate,” she scoffed, for what might have been the dozenth time, and pointed at the wing of the spaceship which took up most of the movie poster. “That would never actually—what?”

Ryan jerked his gaze hastily back to the movie poster. “Nothing,” he said far too quickly. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and followed to where his gaze had been pointed, where Yaz and Graham stood at the concessions stand.

Her hearts plummeted. She could see why Ryan had decided to save her from the sight. Yaz was leaning over the counter, a shy smile hiding in her hand, as she giggled at something the cashier said. The Doctor watched as the cashier smiled in return, and passed the change over to Yaz, who took it. Their hands touched, and lingered. The Doctor’s blood ran cold.

“Doctor?” she felt Ryan gently prod her in the arm, but made no response. She couldn’t; she was too busy _watching._ This was worse than all the other ones combined, for sure, because not only was the cashier pretty, and Yaz’s age, and human, but Yaz was wearing that same smile she used to wear when the Doctor said something completely outrageous, or made a particularly funny joke. That smile wasn’t a ploy to get the Doctor’s attention; Yaz wasn’t even looking at her.

But that smile was _hers._

The Doctor didn’t even realize she was striding over until she had already brushed past Ryan, leaving him to stumble backwards with an indignant squawk of surprise, and was halfway across the lobby before she even thought to make a plan. Nothing came to mind, so she just decided to wing it, propelled on by the burning—oh, might as well call it what it was— _jealousy_ lacing through her veins.

She barely noticed Graham, standing impatiently behind Yaz with a long-suffering look on his face, before she stepped up to the counter and planted herself directly beside Yaz. Then, just to drive things home, she slung her arm across her shoulder.

“Yaz!” she exclaimed, and pulled her close, ignoring her look of indignant confusion. “What’re you hanging around for? You don’t want to miss the movie, do you?”

“Doctor, we have ten more minutes—” she tried to say, only to be cut off as the Doctor spun her around and practically yanked her away, leaving the cashier to stare after them, baffled.

“Think Graham was getting impatient,” she muttered, into Yaz’s ear, and ignored both her corresponding huff and the disbelieving look Ryan was giving her across the lobby, to turn them both down the hall that led to the actual theaters. “What d’you say, should we go find our seats?”

“Um, no?” Yaz ducked out of her grasp just as they rounded the corner into the empty hallway, and stopped in front of one of the many doors leading to various theaters. She put her hands on her hips, and scowled. “What the hell, Doctor? I was in the middle of something!”

The Doctor, having nowhere suddenly to put her arms, clasped them nervously together, and tried to look nonplussed. “Didn’t you already pay?”

Yaz’s scowl deepened. “That wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Oh.” She nodded, and gulped. She hadn’t expected Yaz to just— _say_ it. Only she hadn’t, technically. Except now the elephant in the room was sitting directly between them, and the Doctor scrambled, unwilling to confront it. “I, um—did I interrupt something?”

“Oh, come _off_ it!” Yaz threw her hands up in the air. “Really, Doctor? You expect me to believe that you missed that? That I was—trying to _flirt?_ You couldn’t have given me some room?”

The Doctor floundered. This conversation was not going at all the way she’d wanted it to, and now that the jealousy wasn’t muddling her thoughts quite as much, she realized that she wasn’t at all sure where she’d wanted it to go in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I—I didn’t realize it was serious! I thought—I thought you only—”

Yaz tilted her head, her expression turning dangerous. “Thought I what, exactly?”

“Um—” the Doctor choked. She could tell Yaz knew exactly what she’d been about to say. She was loathe to speak it out loud.

But Yaz was watching her, one eyebrow raised. “Thought _what,_ Doctor?”

“Ithoughtyouwereonlyflirtingtomakemejealous.” 

She spat it out all at once, and then clamped her jaw shut and swallowed hard. Yaz stared at her, as disbelief morphed into shock.

“You thought I was just trying to make you _jealous?”_ she scoffed. “Really, Doctor. Of all the cocky—”

The Doctor flung her hands out wide. “Oh, so you were flirting with that soldier in the trenches for fun? And the gas cloud? And the Hith’ua—”

“Yeah, well maybe I just have different tastes!” Yaz tried, but even with her hackles raised and her expression hard and defensive, she couldn’t quite pull it off. The Doctor saw the truth in her eyes, and very nearly smiled, only for it to disappear as Yaz caught the look and glared. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, back in the direction of the concessions stand.

“For your information, _Doctor,_ _that_ was not me trying to make you jealous. That was _me,_ trying to move on from somebody who happens to be an enormous _git,_ and maybe, hopefully, finally get somebody to—”

“Go on a date with me.”

Yaz’s speech stopped midsentence. Her thumb, still pointing over her shoulder, fell. “Huh?”

The Doctor was churning her hands together now, rocking back on her heels nervously. She swallowed again—since when had her mouth been dry?—and said it again, louder. “Go on a date. With me.”

Yaz stared at her. Then she shook her head. “No way. You don’t get to ask me out like that. Not until you explain why you’ve been acting like such a—such a—”

“An arse?” the Doctor answered, and Yaz paused, momentarily taken aback, then nodded.

“Yeah, an arse. Great choice, by the way. Really nails it.”

“Yeah, um.” The Doctor smiled shakily, and wondered for the second time why her throat had gone so dry. Did this usually happen to humans when they were nervous? How were they supposed to speak? “Um, well, the thing is, I—I can’t date you, Yaz.”

Yaz’s angry disbelief melted into open-mouthed bafflement. “But you _literally_ just—huh?”

“Yeah.” The Doctor closed her eyes, wearily, and took in a deep breath. When she opened them again, Yaz was still looking at her as if she’d gone cracked. “I did. But I can’t. But I want to.”

Yaz studied her, half-suspicious, half-curious. The two emotions seemed to be battling. 

After a moment, curiosity won. Yaz cocked her head to the side, and said, “Okay. Why can’t you?”

“Because—” the Doctor paused to take another, fortifying breath, then plunged in. “Because I can’t, Yaz. You’re amazing, truly, properly amazing, and I’ve been sitting here wishing for—oh, longer than I even realized—that I could ask you out, and not the way, I’m doing it now, but the right way, but—it can’t happen. Because I’m 2000 years old, and I’ve gone through a dozen lives and loved a hundred faces, and I know how this ends. How it always ends.”

Yaz was watching her as she finished, a slight frown upon her face. As if she were considering her words. Not rejecting them. Just considering. “So you don’t want to go out on a date, because you’re scared you might lose me forever?”

The Doctor opened her mouth, found no words better than what Yaz had just said, and shut it again. Instead, she nodded.

Yaz frowned, but this time, the Doctor thought there was a tiny, teasing light in her eyes. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

“I—uh—no?” Once again, the Doctor found herself flailing. “Yaz, I’m being serious!”

“So am I.” Yaz crossed her arms, but now her eyes were definitely sparkling, and the ghost of a smile twitched at her lips. “Doctor, I really like you. A lot. A little more than I’m comfortable with, to be honest. But I’m not—planning my life around you, or anything. We don’t have to think that far ahead. Or at all.”

“Oh.” Once again, the Doctor found herself momentarily speechless. “I—I suppose I didn’t think—like that.”

“Yeah.” Now Yaz really was smiling, a full-on, infectious grin. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Alright, then.” Abruptly, the Doctor became aware of the fact that she was standing rather awkwardly, her hands still clasped anxiously together in front of her. She flushed, and broke them apart, then ducked her head, bringing one up to palm the back of her neck. “So…does that mean you’re saying yes to the date?”

“I—” now it was Yaz’s turn to look surprised. But she thought about it only for a second, before her smile brightened again. “I guess it is. Unless you start acting like an arse again.”

“Never.” The Doctor crossed her fingers solemnly over her heart, provoking a short, quickly smothered giggle from Yaz. Emboldened, she held out her elbow. “Well then, Yasmin Khan. Would you like to see a movie with me?”

Yaz didn’t immediately take the elbow. Her eyes flickered over it, then to the Doctor’s face. For a long moment, she just stood there, and the Doctor waited, elbow stuck out, feeling slightly ridiculous, and wondering if she had perhaps made a mistake.

Yaz’s eyes darted one last time between the elbow and the Doctor’s face, and she gave a slight, almost disbelieving, shake of her head. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

Before the Doctor could wonder what she was going to do, Yaz reached out, ignoring her elbow, and grabbed her suspenders, yanking her into a kiss. The Doctor tumbled too far forward out of surprise, and they ended up knocking noses for a moment, before their lips found each other at last, and they settled into a deep, contented kiss, the kind that felt far too long in coming.

It was Yaz who broke apart first, to the Doctor’s regret, and leaned back, her hands still wrapped around the suspenders, to smile and say, “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” 

The Doctor grinned back at her, all lopsided and goofy, her brain buzzing pleasantly, and said, “Well, why’d you stop then?”

Yaz smiled and took the challenge for what it was, and this time, when they leaned in, they didn’t break apart until the embarrassed coughs of Ryan and Graham brought them back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed! this was just a fun idea I've been playing around with for a while. I don't think the Doctor is ever actually oblivious to their companion's feelings (except maybe twelve). Pretty sure, were Yaz in love with the Doctor, she would cotton on pretty quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so if you follow me on twitter or tumblr, you might have seen that me and a couple other people are starting a new project: a Thirteenth Doctor fanzine! 
> 
> A fanzine is basically a fan magazine which features a compilation of fanart and fanfic made by anybody who wants to submit, which we will then out together into a magazine to distribute to anybody who wants to own a copy, with the proceeds going to charity! If you want more information, are interested in buying the finished project, or would like to participate, you can check out the fanzine blog at https://thirteenfanzine.tumblr.com/, or follow us on twitter at @thirteenfanzine. 
> 
> We're still in the early part of the process, but we'll be picking up speed soon, so keep an eye out for more information!


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